The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. . " "Two can play at that game, my blood," replied Sheppard, rising, and putting himself into a posture of defence. When Mr. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. There is worse to come.
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